That Dropped Chinese Novel’s Useless Me Says No to the System

Dawn had not yet fully broken. The mountain breeze carried the lingering dampness of the night as our small group continued forward along the narrow pass of the North Ridge.

The recent skirmish had left us all on edge. Along the way, I watched the morning light cut through the dense mist in the depths of the forest, unable to shake the unsettling feeling that something was watching us from the shadows of the mountains.

After rounding two more steep bends, the terrain ahead suddenly opened up.

Standing on a ledge halfway up the cliff, we looked ahead and froze in surprise—

A courtyard sat entirely isolated on this patch of flat ground.

Backed against a sheer rock face, its front bordered a bottomless, yawning abyss. The mountain wind swept up from the depths, rustling the leaves of an ancient tree in the small courtyard with a soft, dry whisper. Inside, there were houses and a pavilion, and even a paved stone path. The strangest thing, however, was the wooden gate. It bore no plaque or inscription, yet the lintel was overgrown with wild vines and flowers—as if it had been neglected, or perhaps deliberately left to run wild.

The place wasn't large—scarcely an acre—but tucked away on this cliffside, it looked remarkably out of place.

My throat tightened as I swallowed. "We... we haven't stumbled into some ancient mountain demon's lair, have we? Or worse—the hideout of those assassins from earlier?"

Mu Cangli frowned slightly. Lian raised a hand, stopping me from taking another step, and everyone instinctively ground to a halt. After yesterday's encounter with those attackers who had lunged out of the water, everyone was on edge.

Hua lightly swayed his folding fan. "It looks like a hermitage, but... the choice of location is bizarre, indeed."

"Bizarre or not," I muttered. "If we want to keep going, we can't exactly scale sheer cliffs. This courtyard is right in our path."

Lian fell silent for a moment, his gaze sweeping from the courtyard gate to the rest of us.

Finally, his eyes locked onto me.

I stammered, "...Don't tell me. You're not thinking of—"

Lian: "Go knock."

I froze on the spot. "...Why is it always me? We have three top-tier martial artists here, and another who, though currently out of commission, is at least a veteran who knows his way around the North Ridge. What am I? If I go up there and knock... that’s basically suicide, you know?!"

Hua smirked. "You have a silver tongue. If whoever is inside does harbor ill intent, they won't make their first move on someone like you."

I rolled my eyes hard internally. Right, of course, the same old logic: you take the hit, we bail you out.

But on second thought... it wasn't entirely without merit.

I sighed. "Fine, I'll go."

Just as I was about to roll up my sleeves and march over, Lian grabbed me by the scruff of my collar.

He frowned. "Don't play the hero. Just go test the waters."

I patted his hand. "I know, I know. It's not like this is my first time. Do I look like someone who never learns?"

Lian fell silent for a long moment, as if carefully choosing his words. Finally, he murmured:

"I... we are right behind you. Be careful."

He had hesitated on the "we," and the awkwardness in his voice was glaringly obvious.

I froze for a second, offering only a quiet "Mm," as an inexplicable warmth suddenly bloomed in my chest.

Mu Cangli quietly averted his gaze. Hua cleared his throat, as if trying to cover for Lian, though the corners of his mouth behind the folding fan were visibly twitching upward. Hua Xiang looked slightly dazed, his eyes darting back and forth between Lian and me with deep curiosity.

I took a deep breath and walked toward the small courtyard gate.

Up close, the plaque-less wooden gate looked even more eerie than it did from a distance. The vines on the lintel looked exactly like the ones Mu Cangli and I had seen at the foot of the mountain, complete with clusters of tiny white flowers that made my skin crawl.

I raised my hand and knocked.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Before long, slow footsteps approached from inside.

With a sharp creak, the door was pulled open.

Standing there was a white-haired old man with a hunched back and heavy, droopy eyelids that masked any emotion. He sized me up. "What do you want?"

I put on a polite, slightly timid act. "Forgive the intrusion, elder, but may I ask your honorable name? I am just a traveler passing through, exhausted from the long journey, and was hoping to trouble you for a cup of water. Also... how might we continue along this path?"

The old man was cold. "My surname is Liu. My master does not receive guests. Wait here."

With that, he shuffled slowly back into the house, returning a moment later with a bowl of fresh water.

I took it from him. "Thank you, Elder Liu. As for continuing our journey..."

The old man replied flatly, "Just take the mountain path around."

I took a sharp breath.

That detour would add at least five or six li to our journey—and it wasn't even a straight path. We were already exhausted and ill, and worse, we had no idea if those assassins from the water were lying in wait along that route.

Steeling myself, I tried to push my luck. "My health is rather fragile, and I'm not sure I can handle such a long detour. Would it be possible to cut through your courtyard and use the back gate...?"

Before I could even finish, Old Liu cut me off, his response as cold and unyielding as stone.

"No."

Left with no choice, I took a sip of the water, thanked him, and stepped back out.

The door immediately slammed shut with a heavy thud.

I went back and recounted every detail to the others. We all looked at one another in silence.

"Looks like we have no choice but to take the long way around," Hua said, throwing his hands up in resignation.

Just as we turned to head down the side path, a flurry of footsteps—hasty yet strangely disciplined—echoed from nearby.

Someone was coming.

Instinctively, we ducked behind a large boulder.

The mountain wind carried the sharp clinking of armor, drawing closer by the second.

Within moments, a troop of soldiers clad in golden armor marched into view, their breastplates gleaming blindingly in the morning sun.

Leading them was a man dressed in a luxurious, embroidered robe, his face heavily powdered and hair slicked back, sporting unnaturally red lips and white teeth... yet he was riding a donkey.

My eyelids twitched violently. "...The Eighth Prince?"

Lian let out a rare, soft chuckle.

I muttered, "...Yep, a donkey definitely suits the Eighth Prince's style best."

Everyone struggled to hold in their laughter.

What was even more puzzling, though, was that the Eighth Prince's retinue had followed our exact route and caught up to us without a hitch.

We shadowed them quietly, watching as the troop and the donkey-rider approached the gate to knock.

What happened next, however, left us utterly dumbfounded.

The wooden door that had just been shut in our faces creaked open once again.

It was still Old Liu.

Only this time, his expression was night and day. His eyebrows shot up slightly, his eyes betraying a flash of surprise at recognizing the visitor, followed immediately by... a faint trace of deep respect.

The moment the Eighth Prince's group drew near, a leading soldier stepped forward, leaning down to whisper a few words into the old man's ear.

We were too far to catch the words, but we watched as the coldness on Old Liu's face melted away, replaced by an expression of solemn gravity, as if he had just confirmed the identity of his visitor.

He froze momentarily, then bowed slightly, pushing the door open just enough to let them through.

His posture wasn't entirely subservient, but it carried a hint of yielding mixed with cautious appraisal.

The soldier nodded, seemingly adding a few more words.

Old Liu then took half a step back, gesturing for them to enter—a subtle movement, yet a stark contrast to the way he had practically chased me away.

The Eighth Prince dismounted, let out a haughty snort, and strutted inside. The rest of the soldiers filed in after him.

Once the last soldier crossed the threshold, Old Liu slowly eased the door shut.

Creak... click.

The wooden bolt slid into place.

The moment the door shut, the warmth vanished from Old Liu's face, returning to the icy indifference he had shown me.

It was as if that fleeting moment of respect had been nothing but an illusion.

Yet the more I stared, the more unsettled I felt.

The same door, the same old man. Slammed shut for us, yet opened wide to welcome them.

What on earth was hidden behind that gate?

And what was the old man so afraid of?

We exchanged looks, sharing a silent, mutual understanding.

Without Lian saying a single word, we all knew one thing:

—There was something deeply suspicious about this courtyard.